Bring on the Rain
The entire world could change several times over and still leave Sunnydale unaltered and sitting at the wayside of revolutionary recognition. True, not much time had passed in hindsight, but even the slightest points of commemoration remained as they had been. The Sun was still showing the Jim Carrey movie she and the others—except Xander and, by default, Anya—had boycotted. Her favorite strip-malls were exhibiting the same sales. The diner she and Willow often chose for coffee had the same worn specials scribbled on the front chalkboard. As though time had stopped the moment she was taken. Stopped and somehow gone on. Existed without existing.
The thought sent shivers down her spine.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she knew she must have been quivering with more enunciation than she realized. She tossed Spike a grateful smile and nodded, grasping his fingers with her own and holding him there as her life weight.
“So,” Wright said from the back. “This is it, huh? Home sweet Hellmouth.”
Tara smiled. “That’s actually what we call it.”
“Wow…that’s sad.”
Spike snickered and shook his head. “You’re tellin’ me.”
“So where’s the Casa de la Summers?” the other man continued, leaning forward as though such movement would grant him a better view of the town. “Your family have an extra room, or will I have to cough up enough to put me and Pigtails up for the night?” He flashed a quick glance at Tara. “I would ask you, but I think that’d be too forward.”
The platinum vampire tossed a mildly amused look into the rearview mirror. “What ‘bout me?” he demanded with a mock-pout. “You wouldn’t even deign to ask your best friend?”
“Are you ever going to let that go?”
“Not for this lifetime.”
“Well, anyway, pal,” he drawled, “I figured you were staying with your sweetie-pie, since you two have practically been joined at the hip since you…well…joined.” He made an unpleasant face and survived a well-deserved thwap from Tara, who blushed in their favor. “And since I don’t wanna be anywhere near that room of sin, I was just wondering if there was a spare or if the local motel has a vacancy for the night or few that we’ll be here.”
Buffy pursed her lips at that, hazarding a glance in her companion’s direction. “Actually,” she said hesitantly. “You can take my room.”
Wright’s gaze went wide and his hands came up in protest. “Whatever kinky sex games you two have planned, keep me out of it.”
“The Slayer’s stayin’ with me tonight,” Spike told him, rolling his eyes. “You only wish you could get that lucky, mate.”
Tara frowned. “Staying with you? I-in the graveyard?”
“It’s not as serial killer as it sounds,” Buffy said with a shrug. Then she paused with thought. “Well, not as much as it could be, I guess.”
The peroxide vampire favored her with a long sideways leer. “Your vouch of good faith is all a bloke needs nowadays.”
“Hey, give me some credit. Two months ago, even mention of a Thriller-style slumber party would’ve been stake-worthy.”
He grinned in turn. “That’s my girl. Always the picture of open-minded optimism.”
“Well, I wasn’t the nicest person to you—”
“We’ve already covered this, luv,” he objected coolly, holding up a hand. “All’s well that end’s well…an’ your end is definitely well.”
She smirked and whacked his arm, earning a loving gaze in turn.
“Might I observe that it hasn’t ended at all?” Wright volunteered. “We still have some mystic bitch to fight that you managed to go the entire trip without talking about.”
“It’s called avoidance, Zack. If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.”
Spike tossed her a mildly amused glance. “Tell me one time that philosophy has worked. Anytime will do. An’ isn’t that how that one bird turned into inviso-girl?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Angel tends to talk when he’s evil, as I’m sure you observed.”
“Yeah,” the Slayer agreed under her breath. “Amongst other things.”
The peroxide vampire instantly sobered, gaze going wide with regret and more than regret. There was such poignancy and pain behind his expression that it made her heart ache. “Buffy—”
She smiled neutrally, cutting him off with nothing more. “Hey, no big. It happens to the best of us.”
There was an uncomfortable beat of silence.
“A-about Glory,” Tara said boldly, turning back to Wright, “we’ll give you the basics and stuff when we get to Buffy’s. I’m sure Giles c-can explain it better than anyone here. Plus, the Council told us more after we arrived in England. A lot more.”
The Cockney and the Slayer traded another long glance. Unfortunately, their stealth wasn’t enough to deter the man in the back who was built for that sort of observation. The merest twitch could not go unnoticed.
“What?” he insisted instantly. “What’s going on? What do you two know that we don’t?”
Buffy nibbled her lip in thought and drew in a deep breath, turning in her seat. “Well, when we said that I’m staying with Spike…it sort’ve means I’m not going home tonight. At all. We’re just dropping you guys off, then we’re heading to his place.”
“You’re not going in?” the Witch demanded. “Not even to say ‘hi’?”
She shook her head. “I’m not ready…and I need tonight to get ready. Just one more night to myself.” There was a second’s hesitation before she reached over to take Spike’s hand in hers. “To ourselves.”
The two in the back exchanged a long glance.
“You know,” Wright observed. “This is gonna make them even more edgy. Are you sure you’re just not avoiding the entire thing purposefully?”
“No. That’s sort’ve the point.”
Spike tossed another annoyed look into the mirror, uncaring if it went unseen. “The Slayer’s made her decision, so drop it.”
Tara nibbled on her lip worriedly. “What happens when they ask where you are and why I came home with a strange man and not…well…you?”
There was another pensive pause at that; Buffy and her sire traded a long look, sharing more with a single look than hours of conversation could afford. When he flashed her an encouraging smile, she nodded in turn and inhaled with droll consideration. “Tell them I’m not ready to deal with everything just yet…and no, while I won’t be ready tomorrow, either, I do need this time to myself. Just to…to take everything in.”
The Witch nodded self-consciously. “Um…okay. And when they ask where you’re staying…do you want me to say hotel or—”
“No. I’m not gonna hide.”
Spike smiled but said nothing.
Tara blinked. “I didn’t mean to—”
“The last thing I am is ashamed, so I don’t see a need to lie to them when I have absolutely no intention of keeping this hush-hush. I know you and the others won’t be able to grasp that immediately, but that’s the way it is. And they’ll know that tomorrow. Tonight, they can play the guessing game.” The Slayer glanced to the platinum vampire once more, a smile stretching her face. “I’m spending time alone because that’s what I need.”
“Only you won’t be alone,” Wright said obviously. “And color me stupid, but that’s what they’re gonna object to, right?”
“Then tell them I’m with Spike and let them come to their own conclusions. All right?”
A long pause filled the air.
Tara shrugged with concession. “All right, Buffy. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
The Witch nodded, pursing her lips considerately. “I know you don’t think I get it…but I do. I do. And just for the record…you two have my support. Spike, you can be scary—”
He beamed at that. “Thanks, pet.”
“—but you’re a good guy.” She grinned shyly. “You’ve been great these past couple of days. It’s really, really obvious that you love her very much.”
Wright rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, please.”
Buffy scowled at him. “Shut up. It’s sweet.”
It wasn’t physically possible for Spike’s grin to grow any wider. “Thank you, Glinda,” he replied earnestly. “You couldn’t be any more correct.”
“Awww…” The Slayer shimmied over to her lover, cuddling in an overly cute manner into his side and peppering his throat with soft kisses. “You’re adorable.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
There were duo groans from the back. “Oh, please.”
Spike grinned and arched Buffy a cocky brow that would have served to annoy if he could for one instant disguise his affection from glowing so emphatically. “Got more where that comes from then, luv,” he drawled, taking her hand and placing it on the crotch of his jeans. “’F you know what I mean.”
The look in his eyes had all the markings of a good challenge and sufficiently wiped away any sort of offense she could have possibly conjured up. Thus, with a belatedly wicked smile, she leaned forward to nibble suggestively at his throat while her hand squeezed a long, pitiful whimper into the air.
“Okay,” Wright said slowly from the back. “Officially scarred for life. I’ve seen a lot of things in my time that could do it…but this takes the cake.”
Amazingly, Tara didn’t look affronted at all.
“I take it you’re used to this sort of thing?”
“Oh,” she said with a dismissive wave. “You haven’t met Anya yet. This is nothing.”
“And yet the pussywhipped remark made your claws extend.”
“What can I say?” she offered with a shrug. “I’m versatile.”
Spike and Buffy managed to dislodge long enough for the former to pull into 1630 Revello Drive, not without observing the shudder that ran across the Slayer’s skin. Yes, it was still there. Like the rest of the town, her house had refused to adapt to the changes in her life. With a sigh, he killed the engine and nodded at the front door. “All right, kiddies,” he drawled. “This is it. Collect whatever baggies or small children you brought along with you an’ scamper off.”
“This is your house?” Wright asked, impressed as Tara scampered out to unpack the back.
Buffy nodded.
“Wow. It’s…a house.”
Spike tossed him an irate glance. “What’d you bloody expect, a cardboard box?”
“No, it’s just…houses. Haven’t had one of those in a while.” He offered a kind smile and patted the Slayer on the back with ceaseless encouragement. “We’ll fend the herd tonight, Buff. You get some rest.”
She nodded warmly at that. “Thanks.”
“I mean it. Get some rest. You know, that thing that’s not sex? No horse play.”
The platinum vampire pouted morosely at that. “Party-pooper.”
Zack chuckled, lifting the still-sleeping child into his arms and waiting as Tara collected her things. “Restfield, right?”
Spike arched a brow. “You’re the demon hunter. You tell me.”
“If I need to find you, I will.”
“Suuuure…”
“I will. And if I find any evidence of hanky panky, you two will be in big trouble.”
The peroxide vampire delivered a mock salute. “Aye, aye, cap’n. Everythin’ unloaded?”
Tara nodded, slamming the trunk shut. “Everything that needs to be.”
“Then we’re gone.”
“You know what to do when they ask you, right?” Buffy inquired, leaning over Spike to be heard out the window. Not that he minded, of course.
Wright nodded with a grim smile, running his hands through his sleeping daughter’s hair. “You’re downtown selling your body for drug money.”
“Ha ha.”
“Right,” the peroxide vampire said decisively. “We’re out. One of the Scoobies’ll be able to send you in the right direction ‘f your oh-so fabulous trackin’ skills fail you. ‘Course, that’s assumin’ you’ll need to find us in the firs’ place.”
The demon hunter’s smile turned into a smirk. “You’re a riot.”
“I try my best.” He nodded at Rosie. “Tell the Bit to not listen to anythin’ that wanker Harris has to say.”
“Gotcha.”
“Hey!” Buffy and Tara cried in protest. The vampire merely grinned.
“Right, luv,” he said, turning back to the Slayer. “You ready?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, but she nodded all the same, a resolute expression set in her features. “I’m ready,” she said. “Take me home.”
Spike looked at her with the kindest smile she had ever seen, and it touched her heart with more of the same. Home wasn’t a crypt—not to her, but wherever he was. And if that was where he chose to be, then by golly, that was where she would be, too.
Though the prospect of an apartment was sounding better and better.
“You got it, sweetheart.”
They were gone the next instant. Buffy had never been more relieved to turn off her street in the whole of her family’s duration in Sunnydale.
Tomorrow would be too soon, but it was one more day. One more chance to get ready for the inevitable.
But that was where the line ended. No more delays.
Thankfully she had tonight.
The door opened with the droll greeting of a blank stare.
“Whoa, Tara,” Xander drawled in surprise. “We send you for Buffy and you bring home a man. Talk about a first. Unless…” His eyes narrowed with artificial suspicion and he gave the demon hunter a skeptical once over. “You are Buffy?”
Wright and the Witch exchanged weary glances. “Let me guess,” he began, arching his brow at the other man. “Harris, right?”
“Ummm…yeah.” Xander frowned and stepped back, nudging the woman at his side with shades of paranoia. “How did he do that?”
“Well, let’s just say if Spike didn’t tell me enough, Cordy filled me in on the full nine yards.” The demon hunter shook his head with a wry grin, stepping inward and bouncing lightly Rosie in his arms. His gaze turned to the redhead with more of the same. “In fact…let me go out on a limb and say you’re Willow.”
“That would be some good climbing,” she replied lamely, eyes wide. Then she turned to Tara. “Who is this guy?”
A chuckle climbed up his throat. Too easy. “Sorry. The name’s Zack Wright. I’m a friend of Spike’s.”
Xander didn’t look convinced. “Spike has friends? Since when?”
“Don’t go there,” Tara interceded pleadingly. “Please.”
Zack’s gaze narrowed and he shook his head without breaking eye contact. “No, it’s fine. Really. After all, this was me not too long ago. And it’s not like we didn’t expect it.”
“Uhhh…” Willow began sheepishly. “Color me confused, but weren’t you supposed to bring home someone more…umm…Buffyish than this guy? No offense or anything.”
“None taken.”
“B-Buffy’s here,” Tara assured them, shaking lightly. “She’s here a-and she’s fine. S-she just d-decided that she needed some time t-to herself before she came home.”
Xander and Willow exchanged worried glances.
“Time to herself?” the latter demanded. “Is she okay?”
“Well, come on, Wills, of course she’s not okay. She’s been a vamp chew-toy for weeks.” Harris’s eyes narrowed. “Well, where is she?”
“She decided to stay at Spike’s tonight,” Wright answered, gaze sparkling with challenge. He knew instantly that the revelation was not what either expected to hear; their body language tensed on virtually the same beat and neither made any motion to guard their astonishment. Thus, on that note, he decided to toss in the kitchen sink. “She wanted to be somewhere where she feels comfortable.”
The other man obviously wasn’t buying it. “Are you sure you brought home the right Buffy?”
“It’s nothing—” Tara began.
“Look, she’s been through a lot,” Willow intervened, holding up a hand. “And Spike…well, he was there with her. Maybe she feels safe with him.”
“And we’re not rushing off to burst that bubble as quickly as possible…why?”
“Because she would kick your ass if you tried,” Wright replied simply. “She told me to tell you that.”
Xander favored him with a blank stare. “Who are you?”
“I’m just a guy who’s here as a favor to Spike and Buffy, all right? Something about a mega death-bitch you guys need help putting down.”
“Look, pal, the last thing we need is some guy who just shows up from nowhere and—”
“He’s the real deal, guys,” Tara said firmly. “The real, real deal. And he’s been doing it for a long time. Trust me, it’s a good thing he’s here.”
Willow frowned. “Doing what for a long time?”
“I’m a demon hunter.” Wright leered at Xander nastily. “A damn good one, too.”
“And yet you’re a friend of Spike’s.”
He shrugged in turn. “It’s a recent development. We met, I almost killed him, we fought, we ‘truced, and through some bizarre stuff that would give anyone nightmares, we ended up here.” An unpleasant smile colored his face. “And if you need any other proof, just give Angel Investigations a ring. Cordy’ll set you straight.”
“Cordy,” Harris repeated numbly. “As in the wonder-bitch.”
A dark wave settled over the hunter. “Watch it.”
“He and Cordy are kind of a thing,” Tara explained nervously.
“There’s also Wes and Charlie,” Zack continued. “And Lorne, but oh wait…he’s a demon. Nix that idea.”
Willow laughed apprehensively. “Well…you are a demon hunter…right?”
“An enlightened one, Red. I’ve seen things you can’t imagine…and a lot of them have been in the past month.”
“Anyway, he’s here to help.” Tara shrugged with a virtually identical nervous titter. “Where’s Giles, Joyce Dawn? They’ll want to know that Buffy’s all right.”
“Only we don’t know that she’s all right, do we?” Xander demanded.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“Oh, I know. But still, proof is of the essence.”
Wright cocked his head challengingly. “She’s with Spike. End of discussion.”
“Can’t even begin to tell you how much that does not make me feel better.”
“Well, he did just risk his hide to save her. You’d think that earn him some leverage.”
Harris shook his head. “I don’t know what kind of demon hunter you are. You see, in Sunnydale, leverage equals bad equals dead you. And hello—Spike’s a nasty killer.”
“Trust me, boy, I know a whole lot more about nasty killers than you do.”
Willow turned to Tara, desperate for distraction. “Giles is at his house. We’re supposed to call him when you get in. Dawnie’s upstairs reading to Joyce—or she should be, and not watching television, but I haven’t checked up on them in a while. And Anya went for food. She didn’t want to order pizza…because there’s a delivery charge and you know how she is.”
The other Witch nodded her support. “I know.”
“Look…” Xander sighed diplomatically and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose with tired exasperation. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s just…sit down and talk like normal people. We should call Giles—”
“I don’t see why,” Willow retorted. “If Buffy’s not gonna be here until tomorrow.”
“Then why don’t we go to Spike’s place and—”
“Were you not listening just a minute ago?” Wright snarled contemptuously. Without waiting for a reply, he shook his head and nudged Tara to his side so he could navigate Rosie into her embrace. “Take her and tell her when she wakes up that I’ll be by to pick her up around ten tomorrow morning, all right?”
The child in question murmured a bit but did not awake.
The blonde Witch nodded, confused. “Where are you going?”
“Somewhere where I’m not surrounded by hypocrisy.” The demon hunter snickered and moved for the front door. “Besides, I better go make sure they’re behaving themselves, right? Made them promise and everything.”
Tara’s eyes widened. “Zack—”
“I’ll be back. Tomorrow.” And that was it. With a disgusted shake of his head, Wright pivoted and disappeared, slamming the door heartily behind him.
Xander blinked slowly after he was gone, turning to Willow torpidly. “Did he say what I think he said?”
“It could’ve meant a number of things…”
Two sets of eyes fell on the blonde Witch expectantly, and she sighed nervously in turn.
“Oh, dear,” she said with an apprehensive tweak. “That did not go well at all.”
Spike’s hand came down on the table hard enough that one of the legs snapped, sending sawdust and splinters of wood across the floor of crypt. The impact of the blow provoked a shrill cry from Buffy’s throat and she jumped to her feet, scampering as far away from him as possible. Though the danger had always been there, she had not anticipated such a violent display so soon, especially given his promise of gentility.
It took a second for him to regain control. Slowly, their eyes met.
Then Buffy started laughing.
“Stop,” he pouted. “’S not funny.”
That didn’t seem to help. Her amusement intensified and her hands dropped to her sides, holding herself in some form of habit as her body wracked with the impact of her mirth. She made several ill-attempts to recollect control but only ended up laughing harder.
“What? I bloody well broke my coffee table. ‘S not funny.”
The Slayer drew to a silent beat at that as though the concept hadn’t occurred to her.
Then she was laughing again.
“Oh, that sodding does it.” Spike growled his discontent and jumped up, seizing her by the wrist and drawing her back to the sofa and into his lap. She cried with feigned protest and squirmed in a poor attempt to escape, only to provoke further moans from her companion and a tighter hold on her body.
“You…broke…the table,” she gasped.
The peroxide vampire glared at her for another full minute before allowing a hint of a grin to cross his lips, his head ducking to escape introspection. “I noticed,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over the nape of her throat.
“You broke it…playing Egyptian Ratscrew.”
Spike glanced down sheepishly. “It was bloody well askin’ for it. An’ ‘sides, you were gonna enact your bloody Slayer plus vamp strength. I had to—”
Buffy wiped her eyes with another blurb of laughter, shaking her head. “Why didn’t I see this side of you before?” she asked rhetorically, snuggling against him with a purr of satisfaction.
A grin tickled his lips as he gently caressed her back. “An’ what side would that be?”
“The real you, I guess.” She sighed happily and leaned back, pulling him with her. “Of course, you did try to kill me a few thousand times.”
“I was jus’ shy,” he explained, straight-faced. “I wanted to get your attention.”
“Oh, is that it?”
“’Aven’t you ever heard that boys are mean to the girlies they secretly wanna—”
Buffy slapped his shoulder, encouraging a rich chuckle. “Well, yeah. But I think you might’ve gone a little overboard with that.”
He nodded. “You think?”
“Just a little.” She murmured contentedly and stretched fully beneath him, running her hand across his face and smiled when he leaned into her touch. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”
“Watch Passions,” he replied with a shrug. “Plot world domination. Shag Harm.”
A scowl crossed her face and she whacked his shoulder.
Spike chuckled again and brushed a kiss over her lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“Me? Jealous of that vapid airhead? Puhlease.”
“What she lacks in smarts she more than makes up for in—”
“Finish that sentence and you’re never getting laid again.”
“So says you.”
“Spike!”
He was laughing in earnest now, prying fingers tickling her sides softly to coax a more neutral expression to her face. “I love you, you daft bint,” he told her. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“So you decide to make jokes at my expense about screwing other girls?”
“I’d never, an’ you bloody well know it. ‘Sides…” He leaned inward to nibble at her mouth again, suppressing a smile when she allowed him access without struggle. “I believe you’ve effectively ruined me for all women. After…everythin’. This is it.”
The most gorgeous pout he had ever seen crossed her lips. “I better have ruined you.”
“Trust me, pet.”
Buffy leaned back against the sofa and enjoyed his casual, lazy attentions that were never without the full of feeling. The sensation alone was something she had never experienced with any of her former lovers. The wealth of emotion conveyed with such magnitude through every touch. It was something she would never tire of. “Where is Harm, anyway?”
“Bugger ‘f I know or care. Maybe she took up with a nasty snot demon, or found a deaf vamp. Knowin’ her, she wouldn’t notice that he doesn’ talk back.” His hand ran down the length of her arm and crossed her abdomen slowly, trailing a feather light touch until her skin shivered under his influence. “Sorry this place lacks the finer luxuries, luv. But it was your idea to stay here.”
“I know. You see me complaining?”
He grinned wickedly.
“I mean now, and about the living conditions? You have a television, you have blood in the fridge, you have some food, though I think those last two have gone bad by now…” A sly smile broke across her face as her own playful fingers slid down his chest, skimming underneath his shirt and earning a low rumble of encouragement as she explored his skin. “You have a big comfy bed downstairs, and you have you. So I’m a happy girl.”
Spike sent her a smoldering look that made her toes curl in anticipation. “How happy?” he demanded huskily.
“I get the feeling you’re about to make me the happiest girl ever.”
“You’re insight serves you well…” His head dipped once more to her throat, dropping teasing nibbles across her skin as his hand slid beneath the waistband of her pants. His other hand crept up her side to cup a breast, and she arched masterfully under his attentions, rubbing herself against the hardness of his jeans and earning the same in turn.
“Mmmm…” he murmured approvingly as his fingers discovered her moist tenderness. “You’re magnificent.”
Buffy’s brow furrowed in concentration. “Thank you,” she managed awkwardly. “I try.” Before he could summon a response, she grasped him by the neck and brought him back to her, ravaging his mouth with hers. A low growl of encouragement coursed through him, touching her nerves with almost more power than his hands could entice, and they battled each other with passionate fury that had not known life before this moment.
It seemed fitting that Wright would choose that moment to interrupt their haven.
“Aha!” he cried triumphantly as the crypt door burst open. “I knew there was a reason to check up on you two. Didn’t I say no hanky panky?”
A start rang through the air with a beat of delayed realization. Spike and Buffy broke apart with difficulty—the response quick but uncomfortable. After a few fumbling seconds of rearranging clothing and smoothing out ruffled hair, they beamed virtually identical smiles of pure innocence in his direction.
“Hey, Zangy,” the peroxide vampire greeted, pulling his childe over his lap when he couldn’t find a throw-pillow convenient. Not that his humble home had ever been equipped with throw-pillows. It was a lonely matter of wishful thinking. “I see you found the place.”
The other man shrugged, stretching out his arms. “What can I say? Demon hunter.”
“Right.”
“We were playing Egyptian Ratscrew, and Spike broke the table,” Buffy blurted with embarrassment, her face tinting with the slightest hint of pink.
Wright arched a brow.
“It’s a game!”
“Well, whatever you kids are calling it these days, I distinctly remember telling you that sleep was your priority tonight.”
The peroxide vampire rolled his eyes. “Yes, mother.”
“It’s a card game,” the Slayer emphasized. “Though…yeah. Why should we listen to you, huh? That’s right. We’re both…adults. A-and vampires. Yeah, vampires And we could…you know…eat you and…stuff.”
Zack’s eyes went even wider.
“Not that way!”
Spike clamped a hand over Buffy’s, shaking his head and chuckling richly. “Sweetheart, quit while you’re ahead.” He turned back to his friend, gesturing to the empty chair that sat adjacent to the television. “So, they chase you off already?”
That was all it took. Immediately, the demon hunter dropped his teasing countenance and rolled his eyes, taking the proffered seat. “I don’t know how you put up with it,” he said. “And yes, while I realize that I was on their side not too long ago, I don’t think I was ever that bad.”
“I beg to bloody differ.”
Wright gave him a sharp look, but shrugged again all the same with a weary nod. “Okay, so I was an anti-demon son of a bitch…and I still am, don’t get me wrong. But I do have eyes and common sense—something that seems to be severely lacking with your friends.” He nodded at Buffy. “No offense.”
She opened her mouth to reply but settled with a nod instead. There was no sense in protesting the truth.
Spike shrugged. “Harris has always been like that,” he said dismissively. “Funny, though. We were actually on the road to gettin’ along before the full of this happened. ‘Course there’s every chance that the whole of that experience was a fluke. Or temporary insanity.” He glanced at Buffy with a weary sigh, smiling as though it didn’t matter. “’S nothin’ I din’t expect.”
“It’s not fair,” she murmured softly.
“’S not s’posed to be, luv.” He smiled gently and turned back to Wright. “Where’s the Bit?”
“Left her with Tara. I’ll be by in the morning to pick her up.” He made a face. “I might be willing to stay here, but I sure as hell am not gonna subject my daughter to it.”
“Oh, but you would make her stay in that pit of filth you called a motel in LA?”
“Better than here.”
“By your admittedly low standards, I guess.”
Zack scowled. “Buffy, tell your boyfriend to lay off.”
“Luv, tell—”
“Oh, give it a rest.” She shimmied forward in Spike’s lap, not doing much to heal his aching predicament. Both ignored the low whimper that hissed through his lips. “Come on. Let’s teach Zack how to play Egyptian Ratscrew.”
The demon hunter favored them with a worried look.
“It really is a card game.”
“I don’t even wanna get into the story about how I’m not falling for that again.”
There was another still pause. Sire and childe cast each other virtually identical evil looks.
“Again?” the Slayer demanded coyly.
“Huh uh. No way.”
“Come on, it’s fun.”
Spike grinned at them, eyes shimmering with amusement. “As long as no more tables get broken around here, ‘m up for it.”
Buffy smirked. “You’re also up for a few other activities.”
He snickered. “Right.”
“Guys!”
The peroxide vampire turned back to Wright deviously, shaking is head in amusement. “It is a card game, Zangy. Trust me, I like you, but I don’ like you. It goes like this…you shuffle the deck seven times ‘cause of some wonky folklore that we bloody well must take seriously ‘cause this is Sunnyhell an’ the slightest deviance from protocol could mean the end of the world. Then—”
“There’s hitting,” Buffy explained with a shrug. “You slap the cards to get them. Spike can explain the rest, but that’s the fun part. That’s also how the table broke. Some people just take the game a little too seriously.”
“Well, sorry, pet, but you were cheatin’.”
“I was not!”
“You were gonna. You have a bloody awful poker face.”
“Well, thank God we’re not playing poker!”
Spike rolled his eyes with a grin. “See what I have to put up with?” he asked Wright insolently.
Zack merely shook his head. “All right…deal the cards and start from the top. Any game that ensues a little violence has to be entertaining.”
“That’s my boy.”
The hunter smirked at him but pulled up a seat all the same. Of all the ways to spend long nights, this was preferable. Once more before facing the lion den tomorrow.
Such promise was more than any could imagine. It was just enough.
To be continued in Chapter Forty-Eight: All I Need…